Concatenation
by Arallute
Summary: In order to mesh himself with the Solo-Skywalker clan, Poe Dameron has to prove himself to the family. And just as Poe is beginning to be accepted, the prodigal son-Ben-returns to the fold. (This storyline is AU, since it assumes Han didn't die in TFA. Otherwise, it's compliant with canon and takes place shortly after my story Charged Particles.)
1. Han, Poe & Rey

**Concatenation**

 _It's a little late for polite company to come knocking,_ Han Solo thought as he shuffled through his quarters. He opened the door to find Poe Dameron standing sheepishly in the corridor. "Evening, kid," Han rumbled. "Got nothing better to do than loiter?"

Poe straightened his jacket when he saw the older man. "Uh, yeah, I'm kinda loitering. Good evening, General. I was wondering if Rey is still up."

Han rubbed his stubbled jaw thoughtfully. "Yeah, she's awake. You know, Poe, I resigned my commission a long time ago. Decades ago. You can stop calling me general now."

Poe grinned and shrugged. "I grew up with my parents' stories about the Rebellion, and you were always 'General Solo.' So it'd seem…disrespectful to stop calling you that now."

Han nodded, remembering Kes. "We did have some fun in the Alliance, your dad and me. Okay, kid, you get to call me General. Just don't let anyone else hear you say it."

"Oh, no, sir."

Han winked conspiratorially at the pilot, then half-turned as he sensed Breha behind him. He saw his daughter's face explode in a broad, beaming smile. "Hi, there," she greeted Poe with a disturbing combination of enthusiasm and lust in her voice. _What the hell is this?_ Han thought. She was looking at Dameron like he was a freshwater oasis in the middle of the Jakku desert. Luke had hinted that maybe the two of them had something going on, but Han hadn't believed it until now.

"Hi," Poe said back at her, just as breathlessly. He stared at her face.

"Hi," Rey murmured again, still smiling.

Han rolled his eyes. "Is this going somewhere?"

Breha threw him a look. "Dad, go away." She managed to sound more affectionate than bossy, but her tone still didn't work on Han. He was an expert at ignoring the orders of despotic brunettes.

"Why?" he said, feigning innocence.

Han caught the exasperated glance she exchanged with Poe. "I'd like to talk to Poe," she said patiently.

"Go ahead." Han was aware he was scowling at Dameron, but didn't change his expression.

Poe decided Solo wasn't going to budge from the doorway, so he plunged ahead. "Finn's been asking me to teach him how to cook, so we're gonna have a little grilling party tomorrow night. Probably just Snap, Finn, Jessika and me, and I'd—we'd—like you to join us."

"Sure, of course. What are we making?"

"Nerf steak strips and grilled vegetables, wrapped in a flat corn bread that Snap managed to steal from the mess."  
"Corn?" Rey squealed. "Like bang-corn?" She loved that snack; she and Poe had shared several bags of it.

It was Poe's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, same stuff, just flattened out. Anyway, eighteen hundred, outside?" She nodded happily. "And we'll eat in my quarters."

"Great," she whispered at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Poe smiled and gave her a quick little bow. "Good night, then."

"Good night," Breha echoed.

Han didn't miss the come-hither tone in her voice. "Good night," he said brusquely, closing the door in Dameron's face before he could say anything else. Otherwise, they'd be here for hours.

"That was rude," Breha exclaimed as soon as the door was closed.

Han was still frowning. This girl was going to give his forehead permanent worry lines. "I'm going to go talk to your mother," he announced abruptly, and left Rey standing there in the hallway.

* * *

 _Maybe I should build a table,_ Poe thought. His friends were sitting cross-legged on the floor, plates with the remains of dinner on their laps and wine glasses scattered around. Only one glass had spilled so far.

Finn had wanted to sit on the loveseat, but had been dissuaded by an uncertain look from Poe.

"Can't I sit on the couch?" he'd asked Poe.

Chewing on a piece of meat, Poe tried to look innocent. "Sure, of course."

"Why shouldn't I sit here?"

"No, no, go ahead."

Finn wasn't buying it. "Is it going to fall apart on me or something?"

Poe shot Rey a quick look. "No, it's perfectly stable. It's a good couch."

Finn looked from Poe to Rey and back again. "Rey, what's wrong with the couch?"

"Uh, nothing," she stammered. "It's perfectly clean."

"Why wouldn't it be clean?" Finn asked her. She shrugged. Finn, not convinced, had sat on the floor. Rey was the only one on the loveseat.

"I still think," Rey grumbled good-naturedly, "that I could have cooked the meat quicker with a lightsaber."

"It would've been raw on the edges, and burnt in the middle," Jessika observed.

"With a smoky aroma," Finn added like a food critic. He gulped down the rest of his wine. "And a faint plasma aftertaste."

"What time are we on duty tomorrow, boss?" Snap asked Poe, though he knew the answer.

"Noses up at eight sharp."

"Is that open for negotiation?" Snap wasn't drunk, not nearly so, but he did hope to get a little extra sleep.

Poe gave him his best pompous-admiral look. "Not even a little."

"Well, then, squadron," Snap said, rising, "let's away." He gestured to Jessika and Finn. "We should go to bed."

"I'm not going to bed with you, Wexley," Jess said indignantly.

He wagged a finger at her. "One day, my pet, one day." She snorted at him. Snap ignored that, and instead gave Poe and Rey a casual salute. "G'night, Black Leader, Master Jedi. Thanks for dinner."

Poe walked everyone to the door. "Good night, all."

As Finn was leaving, he whispered to Poe, "Did you and Rey do something on that couch?" Correctly reading Dameron's sudden blank look, he added with mirth, "You're disgusting."

Poe smirked. Before shutting the door, he called out, "It's called a _loveseat_ for a reason." He laughed at Finn's grimace. Then he sauntered back to the sofa and sat down, drawing Rey onto his lap. He kissed her cheek. "Are you leaving, too?"

She snuggled closer, burying her face against his shoulder. "No way," she purred.

Poe had anticipated that answer, but it still pleased him. He loosened her ponytails until her hair swung free. He loved the idea that nobody got to see Breha Solo with her hair down except him. "It was a fun dinner, hm?"

She nodded and sighed contentedly. "You smell nice."

"Do I?"

"Earthy. Like fire and wood."

"I guess that's better than meat and oil." He paused, changing subjects. "Do you think your parents know about us?"

She glanced up at him. "I don't think my dad's figured it out. My mother definitely has, though."

"Master Skywalker told me we felt like fireworks exploding in the Force."

Rey smiled at that image. "Yeah, something like that. I don't think she could possibly miss it. But I don't know why she hasn't told my father. Seems like something you'd want to discuss."

Poe shifted slightly, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "She's probably waiting for me to man up and tell him myself."

"Tell him what?"

"Well, you know. That I'm in love with his daughter." Then he yawned.

Rey looked incredulous. "You can't say something that sweet and then yawn at me!"

He smiled. "Apologies. I'm pretty tired."

"How tired?" She tilted her head meaningfully.

"Well, not _that_ tired." He winked at her, then gestured to the little orange-and-white ball at his feet. "Come on, BB-8, bedtime." Since the droid had once caught him in a very compromising position with Rey, Poe now insisted on personally plugging him in to his power cable every night.

"I'll be in the 'fresher," Rey said, rolling off Poe's lap.

After getting his droid squared away and stacking the dinner dishes in the galley, he came into his tiny sleeping quarters to find Breha sprawled above the covers of his neatly-made bed. She wore nothing but a dark blue satin bra and matching unders. She lay on her side, leaning on one elbow and smiling at his dumbfounded expression.

After a moment, Poe realized his jaw had dropped open, and consciously shut it. He swallowed. "You look good in blue."

She batted her eyelashes at him playfully. "You say that about every color you see me in."

"Yeah, well, I'll let you know when I find a color that doesn't suit you." His eyes drank her in. "You're…breathtaking."

He moved to stand next to the bed, while Rey scooted forward to kneel in front of him. She put her arms around his shoulders and scrutinized his handsome face.

"You know, when I was little," she commented, "I only had one toy. A doll I made myself. She was an X-wing pilot."

"Hey, what a coincidence! I'm an X-wing pilot." Poe's fingertips ran up and down her sides, making her skin tingle.

"Dolly had an orange jumpsuit," she continued.

"I've got one of those, too."

"Yeah, except I couldn't take Dolly's clothes off." She untucked his beige shirt from his pants. He lifted his arms amenably so that she could pull the shirt up and away.

"Mine come off." His teasing tone had switched into a sultry whisper.

"Lucky for me." Her nose wrinkled as she smiled. "And you're bigger than Dolly."

He nodded at her lasciviously. " _Much_ bigger."

She unbuckled his belt. "More moving parts, too."

"Much bigger parts," he emphasized slowly, "which move in all sorts of ways."

Rey giggled at that. She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, holding onto his waist to bring him with her.


	2. Han & Poe, Han & Luke

This time, Han Solo looked even less hospitable than he had two nights before. He opened the door to his quarters and didn't even bother with an attempt at politeness.

"Where's my daughter, Dameron?"

 _No 'Poe' this time_ , he thought. _I've been demoted. Not a good start._

"Uh, I think she's out training with Master Skywalker? Somewhere in the jungle? I'm not really sure." He paused to regroup. "Good evening, General. How are you?"

Solo spoke brusquely. "She didn't come home last night."

"Well, the dinner ran longer than we thought, and then we stayed up late talking, so…." Poe trailed off. "Actually, Breha's the subject I wanted to talk to you about, if I could come in?"

Solo kept the frown on his face. "Sure," he said, gesturing a grudging welcome. "Come on in."

The Solos' quarters were slightly more spacious than those of officers like Poe. They had two bedrooms and enough room in the main living space to accommodate two functional armchairs. Han pulled out one of the chairs for Poe and offered him a glass of Corellian brandy, which was gladly accepted.

"Is General Organa at home?"

"No, she's got a meeting with Admiral Statura. Procurements or something." Han hadn't yet accepted an official position within the Resistance. He'd only been back a month, and was still trying to figure out his place. Right now, he was just focused on being Leia's wingman.

Poe wasn't sure whether Organa's presence would help or hinder the situation. She'd probably help. She was a professional diplomat, after all, and he wasn't going to say anything she didn't already know. So Poe said a silent prayer to the god of military officers, wishing for a speedy end to the procurement meeting and a hasty return of the princess.

"So," Han began, "you stayed up late talking?" Poe nodded. "Just talking?"

"Yes." Poe said another quick prayer in his head and looked at the end table. "No. Not just. I mean, we also talked."

Solo tossed him a baleful 'you've got to be kidding' look. Mercifully, the door chime beeped before Han could draw his blaster and start shooting. He stood and opened the door for Chewbacca, who lumbered in and greeted Poe with a friendly bark.

"Hey, Chewie, right on time. Poe here is just telling me about the affair he's carrying on with my little girl." Chewie chuckled and sat down with a smile on his face. At least, Poe hoped it was a smile. It might've been a snarl.

Poe half-stood in respect for the older Chewbacca. "Hello," he croaked. He rested his gaze on Solo. "I wouldn't call it an affair." Han quirked an eyebrow. "I'm in love with her."

"You fell in love with her _last night?"_

"No, since…well, it's been a while."

"Just how long have you two been sneaking around?" To Chewbacca, he added, "How dumb am I?"

Chewie barked at length. He wasn't surprised by this news at all. Nobody would be surprised except Han, who was indeed pretty dumb. Furthermore, the Wookiee saw it as a good match. He liked Poe, considered him a very talented pilot, and thought he'd be a supportive friend for Breha.

"Aw, who asked you?" Han told Chewie grumpily before turning back to Dameron. "Aren't you a little old for her?"

"I'm thirty-one."

"She just turned twenty. _Twenty._ She's a baby."

Poe looked at his brandy and resisted the temptation to take a swig. "I can see how she'll always be a little girl _to you,_ but—"

"She's still a girl," Han argued, trying to keep doubt out of his voice.

"She's a woman," Poe insisted mildly.

"What, you mean since you—?"

"No, no," Poe interrupted quickly. "It's just…." He took a breath. "Her difficult childhood has given her a maturity that a lot of twenty year-olds lack."

Chewie piped up with his opinion. Han shook his head. "Why are you takin' _his_ side?"

Chewie gave a short bark: _woman._

"Do you understand Shyriiwook?" Han asked Poe.

"No, sir."

"Good." Han paused for a sip of his drink.

Poe decided to take a risk and go on the attack. "Breha tells me her mother was nineteen when you met her?"

Han's eyebrows went up. "Don't bring up Leia. That was _totally_ different." Ignoring the Wookiee's chortle, he sputtered, "She was very, very wise for her age. And it was wartime. Everyone grows up faster in a war."

Poe looked around the quarters innocently without stating the obvious: they were in a bunker, on a military base, in a war zone.

Solo ignored Poe and continued. "She was a senator, and a princess, and she had a lot of responsibilities, and…it was totally different. Besides," he added, finding an argument with a more logical foundation, "we were friends for _years_ before even thinking of romance. You two barely know each other."

"Well," Poe hedged, "we spend a lot of time together. And we have a lot of common interests—"

"Yeah, maybe, but you've known each other for a month. Barely."

Poe took a sip of his brandy. It was delicious, probably part of that twenty-something year-old collection Rey had shown him on his first visit to these quarters. "We're spending a lot of time getting to know each other," he repeated.

"You're supposed to become friends first, before thinking of romance. _That's_ the foundation that you build a relationship on."

"I agree with you," Poe admitted. "We may have rushed things a little. But we're already solid friends. We trust each other. We work well on missions—"

Han didn't let up. "From what I've heard around the base, you're a real ladies' man, always falling in love with some pretty soldier or pilot."

Poe winced. "I…no, I don't. Nothing close to love."

"What would you call it, then? Just casual sex?"

Poe averted his eyes, and tried to come up with some answer that might assuage the general's doubts. "Well, frankly, yes," he began.

"With half the women on base?"

Poe couldn't resist the Corellian brandy's lure anymore. He took a big gulp before replying. "Definitely less than half. But my relationship with Breha is very different than that. She's special. Different." It didn't sound too convincing even in Poe's own ears, despite his earnestness. "I like everything about her. She makes me…sparkle." He ended lamely, thinking of the first time Rey had used that word to describe her state of mind: right after they made love the first time. _Do not blush,_ he ordered himself.

Han leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. "Here's what I'm worried about. You're used to havin' short-term flings with women and then leaving them before either of you can even think about getting serious with each other."

Chewbacca whuffled softly. _Just as you did, before the princess. Plenty of times._

Han threw his old friend a sideways glance as he continued. "Which is fine, whatever. But then you try that with a very young gir—woman—who doesn't have any experience at all with this kinda thing, and she gets the wrong idea."

"No, she's got the right idea about me."

Han shook his head. "One day, you're gonna get bored with her and move on to your next plaything, and her heart's gonna be broken."

"It's not like that," Poe insisted. "I wouldn't do that to her." He thought for a moment. "If I had to choose between marrying her tomorrow or never seeing her again, I'd marry her. It's not even a hard choice."

"Well, you say that now. But how far would you two get? You've never tried making a serious relationship work. Neither has she. Look, she didn't even have any friends growing up on Jakku, Poe. She had _nobody._ Nobody she trusted. And now here comes this handsome hotshot pilot who showers her with attention, who seduces her on some away mission in the middle of a jungle, and promises her the whole galaxy. She trusts you completely. And you could very easily destroy that." Han paused for emphasis, and jabbed a finger towards Poe. "And if you destroy my daughter, I'll destroy you."

Poe considered arguing. He had certainly not seduced Breha, hadn't even flirted with her. Like Solo said, she was young and inexperienced, and Poe was very aware of that. He hadn't planned to ever make the first move, and he didn't: she was the one who threw herself at him in that jungle. _But,_ he admitted to himself, _I should've said no. Taken it slow._ So instead of addressing the point, he asked, "Have you ever been to the Rainforest Preserve on Yavin IV?"

Caught off guard, Han just grunted, "Huh?"

"They have one of the largest butterfly houses in the galaxy. This huge sunny building with tropical plants and thousands of birds and winged insects. It's very peaceful. There are benches so you can just sit quietly and watch them. I loved it there, used to go every year during school holidays. The butterflies' wings were so incredibly delicate and beautiful, and even as a child, I knew that you had to be very careful not to damage them if they landed on you. And I never hurt one. I adored them."

Han wasn't convinced, though he had to concede—grudgingly—that he liked the analogy. "Yeah, Breha's not a butterfly, Poe."

"Her enthusiasm for life, her belief in the goodness of people: that's very delicate. And rare nowadays. She just…glows with happiness all the time." He stared at Solo, as sincere as he could be. "I won't crush that. I love that quality in Rey. I won't abandon her." Poe shook his head, frustrated. "I don't know how to prove myself to you, General."

"Well," Han said reflectively, "there's one way."

* * *

Luke Skywalker opened a bottle of lager. The cap popped off, he poured the golden liquid into a frosted mug for Han, and the two old friends clinked glasses before settling back into the couch in Luke's quarters.

"My new goal in life," Han ventured, "is to mess with Poe Dameron as much as possible."

Luke smiled. "Good goal, sounds like fun. He's very fond of Breha."

"That's why I'm gonna mess with him. He's a little too fond of her." He glanced at his friend. "He thinks he's a lot more than 'fond,' you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"How come everyone knows about them but me? You didn't think that little detail was worth sharing with your brother-in-law?"

Luke shrugged. "I figured you knew."

"I'm not a Jedi, Luke," he sneered playfully. "I don't 'feel the Force around me.' You've gotta spell things out for mere mortals."

Luke looked straight at Solo. "They're sleeping together." Nice and direct.

"Not anymore!" Han crowed happily. "I told Poe he's got to prove that he really loves _her,_ not just her body. I said they needed to work on 'developing their friendship.' So I ordered him not to touch Rey for the next three months."

The Jedi laughed. "There's no way they'll be able to do that. They're young." He gave Han a meaningful look. "Frisky."

"Oh, yeah, I know that. But he's an earnest boy. He's gonna try his hardest to impress old Papa Solo. It's going to be hilarious to watch." Han took a swig of his drink.

"Would you have been able to stay away from Leia when you two were that age?"

Han gave him a sardonic grin. "If her _father_ had been looking over my shoulder, sure. That would've put a damper on things real fast."

Luke snorted. "He could be…an intimidating presence."

"Damn right. Hey, Vader saw me and Leia just kiss a couple of times on Bespin. He tortured me and then froze my ass in carbonite."

"I'm glad you can joke about this," Luke muttered.

"Well, it's been a while." He shrugged. "Anyway, it's gonna be fun watching Poe try to be a gentleman without spraining something."

Luke shook his head. "I'll bet Rey breaks before he does."

Han's eyebrows rose. "I'll take that bet. Ten credits."

"Okay, old pirate, you're on."


	3. Poe, Rey, Leia, Snoke & Hux

**If anyone is wondering after this chapter what a "happabore" is, it's the hippo-like animal that was drinking out of the trough with Finn on Jakku.**

 **The more you know...**

* * *

The next morning, there was a special briefing for all Resistance members. It was standing room only, everyone crowded around the spherical display screen. General Organa and Admiral Ackbar explained that they were going to be moving their entire operation back to Coruscant. The entire Senate, most ministers and the rest of the galactic leadership had been massacred in the Hosnian Prime disaster, and the Republic was rudderless. Coruscant–the former seat of the Empire, possessing all the necessary government buildings, spaceports and infrastructure—was the most logical planet on which to establish a new capital.

So while each planet was hurriedly choosing a new Senator to represent them, the Resistance—now the main military force protecting the Republic—would move back to the Core. Ackbar wanted the fleet to be as spread out as possible, in order to avoid the fate of Hosnian. Almost all of the Republic's big ships had been in that one system, completely vulnerable to a targeted attack. This would not be repeated, Ackbar emphasized. They would therefore all be leaving D'Qar within a few days.

After the meeting adjourned, Breha sought out Poe. Per regulation, he had been standing with the other fighter pilots, but now she hoped to talk to him privately. She walked over with that bouncy gait which Poe always found so endearing, a mixture of feminine and childlike. Then he glanced over at Han Solo, who was looking straight at him, one eyebrow raised. Poe changed his expression to something resembling subdued.

"Hi, there," Rey greeted him warmly.

Poe flashed her a grin. "Hi yourself." He put a hand on her arm to guide her away from the others, then in frustration removed his hand when he remembered not to touch her. "Come outside with me." The X-wing pilots had a thousand things to take care of today, but Poe needed to address this first.

Breha walked amicably next to him. "How was the big talk? I didn't get to talk to my father much. He only said you two came to an understanding, whatever that means."

He bit his lip. "Yeah, that. He wants us to work on our friendship, rather than relying on romance."

"Can't we do both?"

"Not according to him. So I'm not allowed to kiss you."

Incredulously, she said, "No kissing?"

"No."

"No sex?" Rey's voice rose an octave.

"Yeah," Poe nodded seriously, "sex is fine. Just without kissing."

"What?" she squeaked, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What sort of—"

"No, Brey," Poe interrupted her with a laugh, "no sex, no kissing, no nothing. Just…normal friendship."

She continued to scowl. "This is ridiculous. He's being ridiculous. For how long are we supposed to be just friends?"

Poe gulped. "Three months."

"Three _months?_ I'll be dead in three months without you."

Flattered, Poe smiled broadly. "I'm glad you find me so useful."

"Very." Breha returned the grin. "But don't let it go to your head." She paused for a moment, thinking. "You didn't say yes to this, did you?"

"Well…he had a blaster," he stammered.

She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. "Well, he wasn't going to _use_ it. My mother is on board with this nonsense?"

"No, she wasn't home."

"I'll talk to her," Rey resolved. "She can fix him."

"That'd be one way to go. But..." Poe shrugged. "Your father wants to know I love you for your mind, not for your body. And I kinda want to prove that to him."

Rey glared. "Prove it to him, or to me? 'Cause I already know." She decided to remind him of just how well she could read his emotions. "I know how cute you think my walk is, and how you feel a little jolt of protectiveness whenever anyone mentions Snoke, and how happy you are when you wake up next to me, and…shall I go on?"

He smiled gently at her. "No, I get it. You get me. But maybe we should respect your parents' wishes? Or at least try to?"

"I'll fail," she said flatly. "Besides, I don't think he's serious. He'd better not be. I'll talk to my mom, see what I can do."

He nodded. "Okay, I've gotta get my ship prepped. Are you flying the _Falcon_ to Coruscant?"

She shrugged. "Probably. I'm sure my father will want to keep me as safe as possible: with him."

"I'm for that." He kissed her on the cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. "See you later." He sighed, his gaze on the green flecks in her eyes. He shook his head in hopelessness. Three months? There was no way.

"I know," she murmured, sensing his thoughts. "Impossible."

* * *

Breha grabbed her mother's arm. "May I speak to you? It's an emergency."

Leia turned away from Major Ematt to give her full attention to Rey. Her heart clenched. "What's wrong?"

"Did you hear what my father told Poe?"

Leia scrunched her eyebrows. "No. What's the emergency?"

"That's it," the girl said earnestly. "Dad's lost his mind."

"Brey," the general said patiently, "I'm dealing with a couple of actual emergencies right now. Can this wait?"

She was unrepentant. "He's acting like a happabore's arse."

Leia smiled despite herself. "What's a happabore?"

"It's a big, ugly animal with a very thick hide and a stubborn personality."

 _Sounds about right,_ Leia thought. "Oh, come on. Your father's hardly ugly."

Rey scowled. "He's being ridiculous about Poe."

"If I had a credcoin for every time he acted like a happabore," Leia reflected, "I'd be very rich."

She tossed her head. "You're a princess. You were born rich."

"I'd be much richer," her mother said with a wink. "But I've got to get back to work now. I'll talk to your father when I get the chance, okay?"

Placated for the moment, Rey nodded. It was a relief to have at least one level-headed parent. She went back to her quarters to pack.

* * *

If the D'Qar base was going to be abandoned in a few days, the _Millennium Falcon_ needed a working hyperspace integrator to get off the ground. Luke was therefore helping Han with (never-ending) repairs. Both men were sprawled on the top of the ship, hands covered in grease, faces smudged with sweat and dirt. They worked in companionable silence, both happy to be doing a chore with a beginning, an end, and a clear purpose. So much of their lives had been far murkier.

"How's Breha's training going?" Han asked mildly.

Luke grunted as a panel refused to come loose. He yanked it free. "She's probably got more natural Force ability than anyone I've ever met. She just soaks everything up like a sponge."

"Leia said something like that. Rey loves to learn." He shrugged. "I guess she's overcompensating a little, for all the learning she missed while she was stuck on that useless sandball. No offense to you desert dwellers," he added with a smile.

"None taken. Anyway, she's making enormous progress. She'll be able to construct her own lightsaber pretty soon."

"Really, that fast?" Han stopped working to think about Ben, who didn't achieve that standing until he was a teenager. His son's first attempt at building a lightsaber had been a failure, and he'd ended up destroying the weapon in frustration. _Always short-tempered, that kid._

Luke picked up on his friend's sudden melancholy, and correctly guessed the reason. He touched Han's arm. "I won't fail you this time."

Han blinked. "What're you talking about?"

"Breha. I won't fail with her like I did with Ben."

Han's gaze softened, and he chose his next words carefully, without his usual humor or cockiness. "You didn't fail Ben. He chose to leave us. That wasn't on you." He looked away. "If anyone's to blame, it's Snoke, for tricking him. And me, for leaving when Ben was so…troubled. And vulnerable." He turned his head back, to stare directly at his brother-in-law. "I know you're doing a great job with Rey; she gushes about you all the time. You're a good teacher, Luke. You just keep it up."

He shook his head slowly, stroking his beard. His expression was tortured. "It must be hard for you to trust me again with one of your children."

"No, not at all." Han drew him closer, placing both hands on Luke's forearms. "I trust you, kid. You're the master. Just teach her what she needs to know."

* * *

Snoke stood against the immense, round window of his shipboard throne room. He contemplated the stars, each twinkling dot representing a system with worlds he might conquer. _Supreme Leader. How satisfying to finally be respected as I should always have been._ Snoke thought of himself as a supremely confident man. Not arrogant, he reflected, just aware that he—he alone—had the drive, strength, and the vision to create a new order in this galaxy.

All the pawns were in play now. His fighters well-trained and disciplined, the Resistance in their usual disarray, both armies itching for a fight. Those cursed Skywalkers were gathered: three on their side, one on his. He could feel the currents of the Force shifting like dark clouds moving across a stormy sky. _How long has it been since I saw a sky?_

His reverie was cut short by a muted chime, announcing a visitor in his chamber. "Enter," Snoke intoned in a gravely whisper.

General Hux let the door slide open but did not approach his leader. Snoke turned away from the window to look Hux over. His boots had recently been shined, and the charcoal gray, gaberwool uniform was neatly pressed. His reddish hair was growing a bit longer than regulation; it would soon have to be cut. Otherwise, the young man presented the proper image of a First Order officer. And he would not dare disturb his ruler without reason.

Snoke let him wait a bit more before speaking. Hux was ambitious, which was fine, just as long as he remembered where ambition ended and obedience reigned. He was still young and stupid enough to need this sort of reminder. _Remind him of his place._

"Yes, what is it?" Snoke eventually said.

"Supreme Leader, our spy on D'Qar has sent a report. The Resistance is planning on leaving the planet and reorganizing on Coruscant, where they plan to set up a new version of their government."

"Ah. Perhaps they possess more of a grasp of tactics than I thought. When is this move scheduled to take place?"

"Imminently, sir. Within a few days."

"Very well, then. We will have to launch our attack sooner than expected. Can your men be ready within a day, General?" There was only one correct answer to this question.

"Absolutely, milord."

Snoke nodded. "I want you to return to me in six hours' time with a detailed plan of attack."

"Yes, Supreme Leader. Thank you for trusting me to organize this."

Snoke waved him off with a graceful lift of the hand. "Go." Then he added, "And bring me Kylo Ren. He has a new role to play."

"Yes, Supreme Leader, at once. Thank you." Hux retreated, and the Sith was again alone with his thoughts.


	4. Poe & Rey

The Resistance members on D'Qar spent the entire day packing, organizing, and planning the evacuation—all of which worked up an appetite. So dinnertime in the mess hall had been a convivial but raucous event. After the late supper, Poe said good night to Finn and his other friends. On his way out, he looked meaningfully at Rey, tilting his head towards the jungle outside. A few discrete minutes later, she said her goodbyes to the group, and went to find Poe.

She knew where to look.

They had a favorite place in the jungle, a fallen log which over the years had flattened out to a sort of bench for two. It was where they had had their first real conversation. They had talked about how the stars looked different from here than on Jakku, and Rey had told him a little about her childhood in the desolate desert. It had been the first time she'd ever opened up to another person—a near stranger, at that—and their easy banter had been a good prediction of how effortlessly they'd be able to develop a relationship.

Of course, Poe was waiting on their log. "Hi," he said with a smile. "Did you escape without your parents seeing you?"

"I think so." She sat next to him, leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her hands around his arm. He was comfortingly warm.

"Chewbacca, too?"

"Yeah, he left before I did." She glanced up at him. "We're not breaking my father's rules by sitting here, you know."

"Yeah, I just don't want to give the appearance of, uh, impropriety."

"I still haven't said yes to that deal of his. Maybe I should counter-attack, come up with my own plan."

"Such as?"

"Well, I could pretend to go along with my dad's idea completely. Just tell him he's right, I'm not ready for a _serious_ relationship…and then flirt madly with Finn and Snap." Poe laughed as she went on. "I could make it clear to my dad that I just want sex, not a love affair."

Poe swiveled, moving her head off of his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're more devious than I thought. You're going to call his bluff."

"Right. I figure he'll turn right around and insist that I stay devoted to you." She shrugged. "He'd probably prefer me to marry you on the spot rather than hear the words 'casual sex' come out of my mouth."

Poe looked at her in admiration. "Not bad, scavenger." He slid off the log and lay on the mossy ground. "Come down here with me."

Breha obliged, stretching out on top of him, belly to belly. She again rested her head against his shoulder, so that she could nuzzle his neck. So much for Han Solo's 'No Kissing' policy.

"So, you'd like to marry me?" Poe murmured thoughtfully. They hadn't broached that particular topic before, and he was surprised to find it didn't bother him to consider the possibility.

"Well, it'd be much easier to get my parents' approval if they thought it was their idea," she said, side-stepping the question. She continued to nibble at his neck and jaw. "Your face is scruffy."

"You're changing the subject."

"Your rugged handsomeness is distracting me."

"You're breaking your father's rule," he reminded her, even as his hands rose—seemingly of their own volition—to stroke her hair and caress her cheek.

"You're not exactly pushing me away."

"Your…you're…oh, I can't think of anything. You win." Declaring defeat in their linguistic game as well as in Han's ultimatum, Poe flipped Rey over onto her back and kissed her deeply. His practiced hands started roaming while he held her gaze. She was smiling invitingly up at him—that wide, toothy grin that made him fall completely under her spell.

"So what do I win?" she challenged him softly. Her eyes skipped from his face down to his chest, then lower. Poe was contemplating a witty answer to the question when suddenly, with a sharp turn of her head, Rey broke away from him. "We've got company," she whispered.

He had enough time to roll away and prop his head up on an elbow before Chewbacca lumbered into view. "Oh, hi, Chewie," he said innocently.

The Wookiee tilted his head at the couple on the ground for a moment, then barked extensively.

Rey nodded. "Sorry to worry you. I'll come straight away." She gave Poe an apologetic shrug as she stood. "My presence is requested by my parents. I'll see you tomorrow." She started to walk with Chewie, then half-turned to give Poe a last forlorn don't-blame-me look. "Sweet dreams," she called back at him.

Poe merely said "you too" in a polite, platonic-friend tone. But knowing how she could pick up on any strong emotions he felt, he sent her a nice little burst of crazed passion and lust. That Force-sensitivity of hers really did come in handy sometimes.

He could hear her laughter tinkling like a bell all the way back to base.

* * *

Dawn was just beginning to break on D'Qar when the sirens began blaring. Poe shot out of bed. He was already half-dressed in his orange flight suit before his brain even registered that it was too early to be a drill. The adrenaline kicked in; with its bitter taste in his mouth, he was fully awake. "BB-8, you up?" The droid beeped an affirmative and rolled out the door, heading for his usual place in his master's X-wing. Poe zipped up, threw on his white flight vest and utility belt, got his boots on, and ran to join his little round friend.

The corridors were crowded with personnel efficiently getting to their battle stations while calm directions began issuing from the loudspeakers. Poe could hear the scream of TIE Fighter engines already overhead, and ran even faster. By the time First Order bombs began falling on the underground base, he was scurrying up the ladder into _Black One._ Out of the corner of his eye, Poe saw the _Millennium Falcon_ powering up her engines, and knew that Breha's escape route was ensured. Moments later, his X-wing rose gracefully into the orange and pink morning sky, accompanied by the rest of his squadron.

"All wings, report in," Poe said professionally. He was completely serious now; this wasn't a patrol mission or even an offensive attack on a target like Starkiller. These TIEs were invading his _home_ , and trying to hurt—or abduct?—his Rey of light, his inamorata, so this was personal.

The pilots all called in, Blue Squadron followed by Red, as they broke into lead/wingman pairs. Luke Skywalker was with them too, using the call-sign Blue Seven as a replacement for a comrade who'd been destroyed over Starkiller Base. Poe took the lead, flying directly at the dive-bombing TIEs. He relayed a few orders, but mostly let each pilot handle the enemy craft closest to them. Their primary mission, of course, was to keep the First Order away from their base and prevent any soldiers from landing. They didn't necessarily need to destroy the TIEs, just keep them away from the base long enough for the Resistance ships to evacuate.

It was a chaotic battle, but the X-wings were doing just fine. Better than fine, Poe admitted proudly. They worked splendidly together, and Luke's legendary presence invigorated the squad with a little extra boost of confidence. At the same time, the Jedi's soothing voice and his absolute calm helped keep everyone focused.

Everyone except Jess Pava, apparently. "Blue Seven, are we going to see a Skywalker Swoop anytime soon?" she asked.

"Concentrate on your own flying, Blue Three," Poe told her sternly. She was young, eager, perhaps overconfident when flying alongside Master Skywalker.

"Roger that," she said, subdued.

Kaydel Connix's voice appeared in Poe's left ear. "Base to Black Leader?"

"Copy, base."

"We're ready to start evacuating the major ships. One escort per ship. And be advised that there're two Star Destroyers in orbit."

"Copy that, Kaydel." He switched over to address his pilots. "Red squad, stay here and finish off those TIEs. As soon as you see your capital ship in flight, break off and escort her to Coruscant. Blues, go up into orbit and see if you can distract those Star Destroyers. Divide in half; Blue One and Three, take the lead."

Snap and Luke both confirmed, and shot upwards.

Poe stayed low with Red Squadron, defending the base until the last big ship had evacuated with its escort. After saying a silent goodbye to D'Qar's beautiful, verdant jungle, he told BB-8, "Seems like our work here is about finished. Prepare for lightspeed, okay?"

Beebee's happy beep was the last thing Poe heard before his top left wing was blown off by a laser bolt. His ship careened, inverted, and just kept rolling. Alarms blared and red lights flashed. Poe slammed his boots against the pitch control pedal at his feet, trying to stabilize the ship, and felt the heady rush of g-force as the gravitational compensator went off-line. Another shot— _from the Star Destroyer above?_ Poe wondered vaguely—hit his nose, and the X-wing began to plunge towards the lush ground he had just been admiring. Then, to make matters worse, the nose cone exploded. He felt a whoosh of super-heated flame rush at him. Without thinking further, Poe pulled the canopy lever and ejected.

The increased g-force, followed by his rapid deceleration after ejecting, caused Poe to briefly lose consciousness. Unlike the rest of his ship, his parachute had fortunately worked perfectly, but as he floated gently to the ground, he had a quick but very vivid dream. He was strapped to a chair in a small, impersonal room. He couldn't move at all. The walls were steel gray, and there were blinking red lights on the ceiling. He heard Kylo Ren's voice in his head—not in his ears—asking him where BB-8 was. Then Ren lit a bright yellow match, and set Poe's legs on fire. He screamed.

Poe regained consciousness abruptly. A few thoughts hit him simultaneously: _G-LOC. I'm tangled up in the parachute. I'm alive. On the ground._ And then a wall of pain washed through him, and he had one more thought: _Am I on fire?_

He looked down at his legs and confirmed that no, he was not burning, and yes, he had been. His orange pants were blackened and charred. He tried to sit up, but his pain was so severe that he just lay back and screamed for a medic. _I can't be the last one left on this planet, right?_ ' _Cause if I am, this is not going to go well._ He had signal flares strapped to his calf, but since he could lift neither his leg nor his knee, the flares seemed impossibly out of reach. He lay still, closed his eyes and tried to think of a plan.

Then Poe heard two lovely sounds: twigs snapping and footsteps. He half-opened his eyes to see a man dressed in black. "Hi," he croaked, hoping he wasn't hallucinating, and passed out.


	5. Poe & Ben

"A First Order shuttlecraft has landed about a klick from base," Major Brance reported. _Damn, here they come._

"Just one?" Admiral Ackbar asked, puzzled.

"Just one, a small craft," Brance confirmed.

"Send a platoon to intercept it."

* * *

Kylo Ren— _no, Ben Solo, that's my name_ —took off his mask and cowl, and descended the boarding ramp slowly and evenly, his hands up. Before the squadron could order him to do anything, he addressed the blue Twi'lek in charge. "Hello, Lieutenant," he greeted calmly. With a deep breath, he launched into his prepared statement. "In accordance with Section 52 of the Republic's Constitution, I wish to defect from the First Order and be granted refuge in the New Republic. I would respectfully request to meet with General Organa to discuss terms of my surrender."

After hearing this pronouncement, the Resistance squad stared at the man with varying degrees of disbelief or appreciation. The lieutenant, however, was not impressed. "We're under attack right now, if you didn't notice. The general is a little bit busy."

Ben nodded agreeably. "Yes, I see that. I expect you'd want—" He stopped speaking to lift his eyes to the sky. He suddenly sensed he was in danger, even before the TIEs roared by overhead. As the others lifted their weapons upwards, Ben darted down the ramp and reflexively took cover behind a tree. The TIE Fighters strafed the squadron, bright blue lasers cutting the Resistance members apart. The smell of ozone, singed flesh and burning plant life filled Ben's nose. Finding himself unexpectedly alone, he ran away from the blaster fire, towards the base.

And then he heard a weak shout: "Medic!"

* * *

Poe stopped moaning, opened his eyes and squinted up at the dark-haired man at the side of his bunk. He had a medical kit open in front of him and was reading out of the first-aid manual. "We in hyperspace?" asked Poe thickly.

"Yes, on route to Coruscant. We're about twelve hours away."

"Are my legs…do I still have my legs?" Poe felt like his lower legs were on fire, but they couldn't be, so maybe they were gone and he was just experiencing phantom pain.

Ben tilted his head curiously. "They're a little burned, but they'll be okay. I'm going to cut off your flight suit; it might hurt."

"Are you a medic?"

"No, are you?"

Poe moaned something like "fantastic" as Ben first removed the signal-flare cuff wrapped around his calf, then cut the orange flight suit above the left knee. He sliced the boot open as well, and gingerly peeled it off. Dameron tried not to scream too much as his seared flesh was suddenly more exposed to the air.

"Sorry, sorry. Your legging is stuck to the burn, so I'm going to keep that on." He took the first of several cold packs from the medical kit, and placed one gently around Poe's leg. "This is going to feel very cold."

"Keep talking to me." Poe's teeth chattered.

"Okay, I'm going to do the same thing on your other leg now." As he worked, he continued his narrative. "You only have second degree burns, could be worse. Luckily, your flight suit is fire-retardant. Unluckily, that's not the same as fire- _proof._ So your legs will heal, but they're going to look pretty ugly for a few weeks. Also, your droid is very helpful. He found me and kept nudging me—actually, bumped into me over and over—until I followed him to you."

"Is he on board?"

"Yes, he's right here. Hasn't left your side. Is this BB-8?" The irony of this didn't escape Ben. He'd spent a lot of time and effort looking for that BB unit two months ago, and now the little droid had practically run him over to get his attention.

"Yeah, the famous BB-8. You okay, buddy?"

The droid bubbled happily.

"Sorry I ejected you, but the ship was kind-of on fire." _Poor Black One,_ Poe thought. _I wonder if we can go back and salvage her. Maybe Rey can…_ A sudden fear gripped him. He'd forgotten about Breha. How could he possibly have forgotten about her?

"Can you send a subspace message to the _Millennium Falcon?"_ Poe asked his impromptu doctor. "I need to tell her I'm okay."

"You want to talk to General Organa?" There was trepidation in Ben's voice.

"No, to Rey. She's probably losing her shit right now. She can feel me. Knows when I'm injured. You know, the Force?"

Ben gave a snort of amusement. "Yeah, I know the Force." He thought for a moment. An anonymous, text-only message, that'd work. He got up. "Be right back."

When he returned, Poe had propped himself up on one elbow. Ben would have been pleased by his patient's apparent progress, except that patient was now pointing a blaster at him.

"Why aren't you in uniform?" Poe said. While the cold packs had numbed his legs, his brain seemed to have thawed out, and his mind was working much better. Poe had belatedly realized that he had no kriffing idea who this guy in the shuttlecraft with him was.

"Why are you aiming a Glie-44 at me?" Dameron didn't react, so Ben put his hands up in surrender and clarified, "I don't have a uniform because I'm not a member of the Resistance."

"Yeah, I figured that. What were you doing on D'Qar, then?"

He laughed shortly. "Defecting. Or trying to. I work—worked—for the First Order. I guess I picked the wrong day to arrive on your base."

Poe shook his head, not buying it. "Your hair is too long to be in First Order dress code." He kept the blaster levelled at Ben.

"No, I wasn't an officer. I was…an auxiliary." He blew out a breath. "How much do you know about Breha's family?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. She can sense you through the Force, so you must be good friends?"

Poe eyed him. "She's my girlfriend."

That little tidbit seemed to throw the stranger completely off his game. He lowered his hands, his unflappable demeanor shattered, and exclaimed, "Are you kidding me?"

"Hands up," Poe ordered.

The man complied. "She's just a kid," he muttered. "She can't—"

"Who _are_ you?!" Poe tried to think if he'd already asked that question. Probably where he should have started.

Regaining his calm, the man said, "I'm Ben Solo. Rey's brother." It had been a long time since he'd called himself either of those titles, and the words stuck in his throat a little.

Poe's gun arm didn't waver, but his jaw went slack and a jolt of fear coursed through him. By his reaction, Ben realized that the pilot also knew his _other_ name. They gaped unblinkingly at each other so long that the silence became uncomfortable. Finally, Ben said, "So, who talks first? Do you talk first, or do I talk first?"

If there had been any doubt in Poe's mind if the unmasked creature in front of him was Kylo Ren, those words— _his_ words from Jakku, repeated back now—dispelled the uncertainty. The pain in his legs was forgotten. "I should blow your head off."

"But you won't," Ben said, still placid.

"Because?"

"Two reasons. You like my sister, and you can't land this ship on Coruscant alone."

Poe's eyebrows arched. "You don't think I can land a ship?" he said haughtily.

"I don't think you can walk to the cockpit."

 _Fair enough,_ Poe thought. He lowered the pistol, stowing it carefully between the cot and the wall. "Are we really heading towards Coruscant?"

"Yes."

"Did you really send Breha a message?"

"Yes. The _Falcon's_ transponder code hasn't changed, and there's a backdoor password I used to make it high-priority." He shrugged. "I grew up on that ship."

"What's the password?" Poe didn't really need to test his identity, but he wanted to see if Kylo Ren would trust him.

Ben barely hesitated. "It's 'highnessness.' " He smiled faintly. "A pet name my father used to call my mother."

"She doesn't like to be called Your Highness nowadays."

"She never did." He shrugged again. "But she didn't mind it so much when my dad did it to tease her." Ben glanced at Poe's legs, still covered with cooling packs. "Your legs are probably cooled down enough now. I'm going to try taking off the leggings, then put some bacta spray on the skin; that should keep it from swelling too much 'til we can get you to a medcenter."

"Why are you helping me?"

Ben pondered that question while getting the bacta spray out. He spoke while he worked, to distract his patient. "I want to make amends, Poe. Can I call you Poe?" The pilot nodded. "I didn't recognize you when I stopped to help, but I'm glad it was you. Maybe…" he trailed off, averted his eyes. "Maybe if I help you," he finished quietly, "my father won't shoot me. And my uncle won't cut me in half."

Poe felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. He wasn't kidding about his family's potential reactions. "Captain Solo wouldn't do that," he assured Ben. "I think he misses you. If anything, he feels responsible for your, uh, difficulties."

Ben smiled crookedly. "Oh, my family runs on guilt. My parents feel guilty about my fall, though Luke thinks that's all _his_ fault. My father and Chewie still blame themselves for Breha's abduction and Anakin. My mom feels responsible for chasing my dad away. I get overwhelmed with guilt every time I think about the people I've hurt…at this point, I think Breha's the only one who feels blameless. Unless she did something terrible to you?"

Poe shook his head. "Nope."

"Well, then she wins the prize for Most Guilt-Free Solo."

Poe yelped in pain as the legging was pulled away from his tender skin. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," Ben repeated in a sing-song way. He consulted the medical manual again, got up to run a sterile cloth under the faucet, and then very gently washed the burns. "Yikes," he commented as the top layer of skin came off with the cloth. "You still okay?"

Poe nodded, jaw clenched.

"I'm going to spray the bacta on top, and then wrap the leg in a bandage."

"Why," Poe asked in a strained voice, trying to distract himself from the pain, "do your father and Chewie feel responsible for Brey's abduction?"

"There were a lot of kidnappings in those days. Senators' kids, spouses, you know, so my mother insisted that one of our parents be with us all the time. But there was a major bill up for a vote in the Senate, and she needed to work her magic on some of her colleagues. There was a big race on Malastare the same week which my dad wanted to compete in. They fought about what to do with us kids. I ended up going to the Senate with my mom—I was fourteen, but I was already active in politics—and Chewie babysat Ani and Brey while my father went offplanet to race. And that's when it happened." Ben finished wrapping Poe's legs. "So my parents blamed each other. And themselves."

"How was it your mom's fault?"

"She was the one in the government. The First Order wouldn't have cared about kidnapping us if not for her." He spoke in a detached way, like he was discussing characters in a history book rather than his own family.

"Oh." Poe leaned back on the cot's pillow. "Thank you for bandaging my legs. They feel much better now." It felt strange to thank…Kylo kriffing Ren? Breha's older brother? General Organa's lost little boy? The clarity with which he had previously thought of this man had vanished: he wasn't the masked evil villain any longer. "Ben" seemed like an ordinary guy, selfless and thoughtful, with a dry sense of humor. Someone Poe might even befriend. "I'm going to try to sleep now."

"Okay," Ben said amiably. "Good night." He got up, then threw a look back at Poe. "Don't dream of my little sister." He emphasized the word _little._

Poe's lips curved into a smile without permission. "Got it."

* * *

Several hours later, Poe awoke. He was as thirsty as a Jawa, but his head had cleared and his legs didn't feel as bad as they previously had. He lay in the bunk with his eyes closed, thinking about the mild-mannered Ben Solo and the coldly calculating Kylo Ren. They didn't seem like the same man; is that what the dark side of the Force could do to a person? Or was he just acting a role? And if so, which one was the actor: Ben or Kylo?

He opened his eyes to find the dark-eyed man considering him. "Good morning," Ben offered.

"Hi again."

"Are you hungry? Or thirsty? This ship only has ration bars, but the water is cold."

"Oh, you read my mind," Poe sighed tiredly, then came fully awake with a jolt. "I meant that figuratively."

Ben gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes, I know."

"Don't actually read my mind."

"I wasn't planning on it," he replied drily. "Too many obscene thoughts of Breha might be flying around in there." He rose to bring Poe a glass of water and a few stale-looking bars.

Poe was fairly certain that Ben was teasing, but decided not to press the matter."Why did you defect?" he asked instead, around a mouthful of tasteless protein.

Ben looked out the viewport at the stars streaking past, trying to formulate a rationale. "I couldn't live with myself anymore. With what I'd done, what I was being asked to continue doing." He swallowed. "I'd thought that if I joined the Supreme—Snoke, he would give me answers. I was impatient; I wanted power and control, and the Jedi path didn't offer me that. It took me a long time to realize Snoke wasn't offering me power either. He controlled me, much more than my uncle had ever done." He lowered his voice, continued in a near-whisper. "Snoke wanted me to prove my allegiance to the Dark by killing someone I loved, my father or mother. And I couldn't. Maybe that shows my weakness."

"Or maybe it shows your strength. There's strength in loyalty, in love, in family honor."

Ben tilted his head as his eyes drilled into Poe, reminding him suddenly of General Organa. The man didn't look like his mother much, but he did have some of her mannerisms. He was reading the pilot like nobody but the general had ever done.

"You know," Poe said off-handedly, "nobody knows who you are. I mean, they know there was a guy named Ben Solo, but they don't know who you became. So you can just arrive on Coruscant and say you've returned after…a long captivity with the First Order, maybe? Nobody needs to know about Kylo Ren."

"How come _you_ know?"

"Well, Breha told me. But otherwise, it's a family secret."

Ben raised his eyebrows. "You're part of my family now?"

Poe looked sheepish. "Nah, just the boyfriend."

"When you say boyfriend, you mean…?"

He rolled his eyes. "Now you really sound like your father. He and I just had this conversation." He paused. "Boyfriend, you know, like, we're in love with each other."

"Are you bedding her?"

"Uh…."

"I should blow your head off," Ben said mildly, repeating Poe's words back at him.

"But you won't." Two could play that game.

Ben stared at him a long moment, then gave him a smirk. "How'd that conversation with my father go?"

"Not that well."

"I'll bet." He paused. "Does my mother like you?"

"Oh, yeah. She hired me. Hand-picked out of the Republic Navy to join her Resistance."

"That'll certainly help sway my father." He exhaled deeply. "Okay, I'll support you courting my little sister if you can keep my secret on Coruscant."

Poe nodded. "Deal," he said with an almost-smile. _I like him,_ he decided. Then he remembered whom he was looking at, and amended that thought to: _I no longer hate him._ His ambivalence followed him all the way to Coruscant.


	6. The Solos

_**Hello, dear readers. I'm very sorry for the lengthy delay in updating this—real life got in the way. But it's spring break now, so I'm back.**_

 _ **To recap where we left off: Ben Solo has rather abruptly decided to defect from the First Order and is on his way to Coruscant (capital of the New-New Republic) with an injured Poe Dameron accompanying him. Meanwhile, aboard the Millennium Falcon, Rey senses Poe's pain and wants to return to D'Qar to get him…**_

* * *

"Don't you understand loyalty at all?" Rey fumed at her parents. Her haughty expression and her icy fury reminded the three other passengers of a young princess they'd known once.

"Look, young lady," Han began, but his wife cut him off.

"Your safety is the first priority, Breha, and I'm sure it's Poe's priority as well." Rey eyed her mother sullenly. "Don't you think?" Leia prompted.

"I'm perfectly safe. He's the one who's in trouble." Rey's tone turned pleading. "He's in pain. We can't just abandon him on D'Qar. He was injured whilst defending you—us—our base. The Resistance _owes_ him," she added for good measure.

Chewie barked his opinion. [The cub is right. We should turn around and pick up the pretty pilot. Everyone else has evacuated the planet by now.] Chewie had nicknames for everyone. Rey liked Poe's moniker quite well.

Rey lifted her chin and smiled gratefully at the Wookiee. "It's settled, then. You two can stay on the ship, if you're scared of stormtroopers. Chewie and I will go find Poe."

Han scowled. He didn't even bother arguing about the 'scared' comment. "Since when is it 'settled'?" He looked at Leia. "Did you say it was settled?" She shook her head and inhaled, preparing her next argument.

The Falcon's comm system beeped twice, paused, then beeped once: priority message, encoded.

Han stood and stepped over to the computer. "Huh," he said, and read the message aloud. "'Stop worrying, Rey. I've got your boyfriend, injured but stable. Will see you on Coruscant.'" He grinned. "See? Problem solved. Luke's got Poe." Then his eyebrows knitted. "It's strange, though, that he'd mention you and Coruscant by name. It's not really Luke's style."

His daughter was relieved but equally puzzled. "Master Luke never calls me Rey. Just Breha."

Han threw her a look, then squinted at the comm screen. "It's gotta be him, though. It came through encoded. Nobody knows that password but us, right? Unless you taught Poe the code, Rey?"

"What code?"

Han and Leia exchanged a look. "Yeah, so it's Luke. Maybe he figured the First Order already knows where we're heading."

Leia was lost in thought. "Ben also knows that code," she said softly.

Everyone stared at her. "Well, yeah," Han began slowly, "but…."

"He was there. On the ground, as we were leaving." She sounded certain. "I felt him."

"Yeah," Han repeated, "but why would he be taking Poe to Coruscant? Makes no sense at all." He shifted uncomfortably. Thinking about his son made both his head and heart ache. "Anyway, the point is, Poe's safe. So can we get back into hyperspace, please, and relax for a while? How 'bout I teach you sabaac, Brey?"

She smiled at her dad. "Sure."

* * *

Ben steered the shuttle to Coruscant's Center for Military Operations, not far from the capital district. The CMO was a sprawling complex, built by Orson Krennic late in the Clone Wars; it had served the Old Republic, the Empire, and now the current Republic. _The only remaining monument to Krennic's madness,_ Ben mused. He landed alongside the Resistance ships, disembarked, and summoned a medic to take Dameron to the small CMO hospital. "Have fun," he whispered as the nurses carried the injured pilot away.

"Always do," Poe replied in kind. As an afterthought, he called out: "Good luck to you."

With that bit of encouragement, Ben was left standing awkwardly alone. He decided to be proactive and announce himself. He looked around the hanger until he saw someone he recognized from his childhood: Caluan Ematt, now white-haired and wearing the uniform of a Resistance officer.

"Major Ematt?" Ben called. As the officer turned to approach him, he said, "I know you're very busy, so I'll keep this brief. I've been a prisoner of the First Order for several years, but I've broken free of them and wish to be given safe haven in the Republic." He stared directly at the major, head held high.

Ematt thought the young man looked vaguely familiar. But it didn't really matter who he was, if he wasn't a soldier. He shook his head disapprovingly. "This is a military base. How did you land a ship here without clearance? Where'd you come from?"

"I flew here from D'Qar with Commander Dameron, sir, and he gave me the landing coordinates." A lieutenant noticed the exchange and wandered over to listen, staring curiously at the raven-haired stranger.

"How do you know Dameron?" Ematt asked.

"I didn't. We just met."

"You look quite healthy for someone who was a prisoner for 'several years,' as you say."

The young man didn't answer that. "I'd like to speak with Senator Organa, please."

The eyebrows of both Resistance officers went up. "Senator?" Ematt repeated dumbly. She hadn't been a senator in a decade.

"Princess, then. If I could just see her…."

"Well, that ain't gonna happen," the lieutenant proclaimed. "She's not even here."

One side of Ben's mouth curved up into a smile. "Her ship has just landed," he said indulgently, pointing towards the back of the hanger.

"I don't see her ship," Ematt countered.

"I can…sense her."

"You can _sense_ her? With what?"

He sighed. "Just tell her Ben is here, please."

Ematt gasped. _That's it._ _He looks like Leia's elder son. The teenager who was always accompanying her to the Senate._ His voice rose in pitch. "Ben _Solo?_ Those Solo kids all died ten, fifteen years ago. There's no way-"

"Not exactly," Ben interrupted. "My brother died; my sister was abducted. I was sent into hiding, to train as a Jedi with my uncle Luke Skywalker."

"You're telling me you're General Organa's son, back from…wherever you've been?"

"Yes. So you call her general now? I'd like to speak with her, please. She'll confirm my identity."

The lieutenant piped up. "You said you can 'sense' her—through the Force, you mean?"

Ben glanced away briefly. He suddenly felt a familiar presence nudging him. "Yes, sir. The same way I can sense Master Skywalker, about five meters straight ahead and to our left."

The two officers craned their necks around the parked ships, seeing nothing, until Luke stepped forward from his hiding place behind an A-wing. The Jedi master calmly addressed the soldiers, eyes glued on Ben. "Thank you so much, Caluan. I'll take it from here; you can return to whatever you were doing."

The major blanched. "Are you sure he's really who he says he is?"

Luke smiled gently. "Of course." His blue eyes bore into his nephew's.

"Well, then," Major Ematt said. "Welcome back, Ben. I'll find your mother, tell her you're here." He withdrew.

* * *

Since the Solos had dropped the _Millennium Falcon_ out of hyperspace, wanting to turn around for Poe, they arrived on Coruscant shortly after the others. But they headed to the CMO's medical center as soon as they landed in Galactic City. Leia caught the attention of one of the staff there.

"Oh, General Organa!" the nurse said, surprised but not flustered. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a pilot who was brought in from D'Qar. Commander Dameron."

He consulted his datapad. "The commander is in ward B, bed 3. Right this way," he pointed.

"Thank you," Leia murmured, already walking briskly in that direction. Breha trotted along beside her mother, while Han and Chewie lagged behind slightly. Han caught the eye of wounded soldiers as he passed, throwing them a concerned look or encouraging wink and smile. He hadn't been a commissioned officer in a long time, but the bearing of a general—and the sense of stiff-backed responsibility it entailed—came right back to him.

By the time they reached Ward B, Rey was ahead of her mother. She found Dameron's bed and knelt on the floor next to him, cupping his cheek in her hand and kissing him softly.

Han's first thought was: _Damn, Luke just won ten credits from me._ His second: _Aw, hell, but they do look sweet together._

Poe opened his eyes and offered Breha a weak smile, and Han took that as a cue to say hi, bye, and leave with Leia, who was looking strange. Distracted, maybe, or worried. Han shrugged inwardly; he'd ask her later.

"Hey, kid," he said to Dameron, leaning over to ruffle Poe's hair a little. "You still in one piece?"

"Yes, sir." Always polite. His gaze traveled from Han to Leia. "General, I think I wrecked my X-wing. Sorry for destroying official Republic property."

"That's okay, Poe," Leia said warmly. "I'll just put it on your tab. You can pay me back when you're feeling better."

His smile widened. "Roger that." Then his face grew serious, and he sat up on his elbows. "I have something I need to tell you. Someone I ran into on D'Qar."

Major Ematt ran into the ward, breathless. "General Organa, Captain, I need to speak with you. It's urgent."

Han looked from Poe to Ematt, then to his wife. "Well, aren't we popular today? Do you guys both have the same piece of news?"

Poe shrugged. "Probably." He took a deep breath. "After I ejected from my ship, Ben found me and brought me here."

"Ben?" Han said. Leia's eyes unfocused, then closed. Noticing her reaction, he said dumbly, "Our Ben? He's _here?"_

"That was my news as well, ma'am," Ematt added. "He's in the hanger. He asked to speak with you."


	7. Reunions

Luke and Ben stood still for a few moments, staring at each other in mute consternation.

"Welcome home," Luke finally said, as warmly as he could muster.

"I left Snoke." Ben tried and failed to keep his voice from shaking.

"That must have been hard."

Ben nodded mutely.

"Where's your lightsaber?" He kept his tone light, conversational, and focused his thoughts on the present moment. _Be mindful of the living Force_. Luke knew that if he started remembering the last time they'd seen each other—Ben masked, red saber in hand, standing in the rain with his Knights of Ren, the wet ground littered with children's corpses—he would be tempted to exact revenge.

Ben swallowed visibly. "I left it behind. I left everything behind." He bowed his head. "Please don't smile at me, Master. I know I don't deserve anything from you but hatred. I failed you so completely….." He trailed off, keeping his head lowered.

Luke stepped forward to lay his hand—his real hand—on Ben's shoulder, and stared straight into Ben's soul. "Are you here to stay?" he asked his nephew softly.

Ben lifted his chin to look back at Luke. He had Leia's doe eyes. "Yes, if you'll let me." He added with a whisper, "I don't know where else to go."

 _An injured animal always returns to his den,_ Uncle Owen's lecturing voice said in Luke's head. Was that how Ben felt? Injured? He couldn't get a good read on the boy's emotions. Conflicted, fractured, distressed, mistrustful, churning like a sandstorm. Mostly, Ben was just feeling lost.

"Well, let's get out of here. It smells like jet fuel in this hanger." He clapped Ben lightly on the shoulder, and moved towards the exit. "You want to take a walk? Or sit down? I think I've been assigned quarters somewhere; we could go hunt for them together."

"Sure," Ben shrugged. "But I thought you liked the smell of jet fuel. Doesn't it remind you of your X-wing pilot days or something?"

Luke was surprised at how easily it was to get back into a normal-sounding conversation. They meandered around the complex, talking only about safe topics, like X-wings and the Battle of Yavin and how the T-70 differed from the T-65 models Luke used to fly. Ben recounted meeting the pilot Poe Dameron, maybe even boasting a little about how he mended Poe's leg burns. His swagger reminded Luke a little of Han.

"We've missed you," Luke admitted softly, interrupting Ben's story.

Leia's expressive dark eyes stared back at him, full of pain. "I don't know how to apologize to you," his nephew whispered back. "And I don't know what to say to my parents."

Luke nodded. "Okay, let's stop wandering around this place and find my quarters. Then we can come up with a plan for talking to your mom and dad. Together." He rested an encouraging hand on Ben's arm. He didn't address Ben's first point. Some day, he'd have to give his uncle an apology for all he had done: abandoned his training, followed Snoke's serpentine advice, joined the Knights of Ren and the First Order, killed the younglings training with Luke. Their mangled faces blended in Luke's mind with the tortured visage of his sister upon hearing what her son had become.

Again, Luke pushed those thoughts out of his mind. At some point, that conversation would occur. Not today. Right now, Ben needed to feel welcomed. And so Luke focused the conversation on locating his new quarters within the labyrinth of the CMO, prattling on like Threepio about trivial matters until they were finally seated in the sparsely-furnished room assigned to him.

"They're pretty stingy with the furniture allotment," Ben observed.

Luke shrugged. "Maybe they think a Jedi is supposed to be some sort of hermit."

The young man threw a sidelong glance at Luke's face. "With that beard of yours, I can kinda understand their confusion."

"At least I have enough testosterone to grow a beard," Luke said with a smirk. It was the type of teasing banter they'd shared when Ben was a teenager, the same banter he'd always shared with Han and Leia. There had been a time, Luke reflected as he prepared tea in the tiny galley, when Ben had always run to his uncle to complain about his parents' rules, his siblings' antics, the girl he had a crush on, all the usual adolescent storm and stress….

A soft knock at the door interrupted Luke's reverie.

"That's my parents," Ben said unnecessarily. There was trepidation in his voice. He looked to Luke for support. The Jedi walked to the door to admit Han and Leia, while Ben stood wavering in the middle of the room.

He needn't have worried about what to do. His mother walked right up and hugged him fiercely, wordlessly. He bent his head down—when had he become so much taller than she?—and buried his face in her neck. Her perfume was the same as it had always been. Ben thought that he should say something—some kind of apology for the last decade, perhaps—but she didn't seem to need it. Leia Organa's love for her son mirrored the rest of her personality: stubborn, unshakable, as reliable as a star's orbit. He opened himself up to her glowing Force presence, let it enfold him, and sent warmth back at her. It was a more eloquent form of communication than speech.

After a minute, Ben loosened his grip on his mother and looked over her shoulder at his father, who was hanging back. "Dad," he acknowledged with a croak.

"Hi there," Han answered in his familiar rumbling voice. He took a step toward his son, then paused, waiting for Leia to disengage. When she finally did, he grabbed Ben and repeated the embrace. "We've missed you," Han said simply. He'd always been straightforward with his son, not one for diplomatic speeches or flowery prose. Ben appreciated the directness, and leaned into his father.

* * *

Poe wasn't accustomed to feeling so vulnerable, but his self-confidence seemed to have burned up along with his poor X-wing.

"I was actually afraid of dying," he confessed hoarsely. "Maybe it was because I was all alone on D'Qar, maybe it was because I didn't want to lose you, I don't know. I always assumed I'd die in battle, go down in a ball of flame while taking out a Star Destroyer or something. But not just fading away slowly from dehydration in a jungle."

Rey listened quietly, stroking his brow. She'd been afraid for him too, though she didn't want to admit that. Her imagination had come up with all sorts of horrible ideas: Poe's beautiful body twisted around his cockpit, or screaming in agony as he burnt alive, or lying prone with dead eyes staring straight up at the D'Qar sky. She'd seen plenty of unnatural death on Jakku, and her stomach had clenched at the thought of her beloved in a similar state.

It was the first time that Rey had been terrified to lose someone…at least, the first time since she'd been abducted as a child. She was just beginning to feel like a part of a family. Her parents, Luke, Chewie, Finn and of course Poe all enveloped her with love. She sensed it like a planetary shield, protecting her from the darkness of the galaxy. Poe's death would be a breach of that shield, and she couldn't fathom that kind of loss.

But she couldn't articulate any of that to him. Just as she couldn't—or wouldn't?—voice the other conclusion she'd come to while watching him here in the medbay: she needed him. She was stronger with him. Ben was here on Coruscant, lurking somewhere, and she would have to confront him soon. It would be so much easier with Poe's reassuring presence at her side.

Still mute, Rey dropped her face close to his and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, cheek, mouth. One hand still stroked the side of his face while the other rested protectively over his heart. He kissed her back, shifting a little to press his lips to hers. She decided suddenly that she was tired of kneeling on the floor next to his gurney; she wanted to be lie down next to him, at least for a little while. It was against the regulations, but she was past caring about appearances. She just wanted to be as close to Poe as possible. So she lowered herself onto her elbows, placing them on either side of his chest, and swung her legs up onto the cot, careful not to press on his injuries.

"Better," she murmured.

Poe sighed in agreement.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't want to see Ben," she admitted in a whisper.

"Yes, you do. He's your _brother_. You really should talk to him."

"I hate him."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I think I do."

"You barely know him."

"I know him well enough."

"He's more complex than you give him credit for."

She grinned at him, that wide open, beaming smile that Poe had always found so breathtaking, even when threatening words contradicted the happy look. "Stop arguing with me," she advised him, "or I'll leave you all alone in this cold medbay."

"No, please don't do that." He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her to him. "I'm a very sick man," he said in his most piteous tone. "I almost died. I'm only clinging to life because of you."

Her mouth turned downwards into a bemused frown. "Your legs got a little sunburned, that's all."

"I was on _fire!"_ Poe protested.

She sighed, resigned. "Okay, hotshot," she soothed him, using a phrase she'd picked up from her mother. "I'll stay with you a while more." Poe made a little contented twitter, sounding a bit like BB-8. She continued. "But I'm serious about Ben. He's caused my parents and uncle a huge amount of pain."

Poe ran his hand comfortingly up and down her back, pausing to play with the two ponytails in her hair. He planted a soft kiss on her temple. "I know, he's done some horrific things."

"Including mind-raping you. And me."

"Yeah, fair point."

"He can't just…change. Apologize to everyone and pretend like nothing happened."

"I don't think that's his goal. He seemed pretty contrite to me. But he's still got some pride; it's not too hard to believe that he'd had enough of being controlled by a man like Snoke. He also seemed, I don't know, kinda normal. Someone you could have a conversation with, or joke with."

She looked at him sharply. "Joke with Kylo Ren?"

Poe shrugged. "He's got a pretty good sense of humor." As she raised her eyebrows—the way General Organa did whenever he suggested something insanely risky—he backpedaled. "Look, your parents want him back. They still think of him as their little boy, like they think of you as a child." _Especially your dad_ , he added silently. "So be nice, for your parents' sake. Who knows, maybe Ben really is serious about making amends, and you can all be a family again." He cuddled her closer, pressing his nose against her neck to breathe her scent in. "Maybe you'll be a good influence on him. You could convince _me_ of anything."

Breha grinned again. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh."

"I can think of a few things I'd like to talk you into."

"Anything that we can do in a medcenter in front of doctors?"

She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. "Not a one." As he laughed, she grew more pensive. "Okay, there's one. Come with me to meet Ben."

He tilted his head at her. "Of _course_. You know I'm your wingman, Brey. We can go right now, if you'd like."

"You've got bacta packs wrapped around your legs and you're wearing a hospital gown."

"Oh, yeah," he remembered. "Well, see if you can find the doctor. Maybe she'll let me outta here."


	8. Dinner chez Solo

It took several hours to convince the doctors to release Poe from the medical bay, though the bacta had done a good job. He could walk more or less normally, even if his legs were still wrapped in bandages to minimize the pain. He and Rey were on their way to her parents' quarters for dinner. "A family dinner," General Organa had said, adding after a pause, "with the _whole_ family."

Poe had never seen Breha so on edge—not while sparring Master Skywalker with a lightsaber, not while fighting the Guavian Death Gang or fleeing from stormtroopers. Her brother Ben had reduced her to a ball of fidgety, short-tempered nerves.

"Stop holding my hand," she complained as they walked.

"Okay, fine," Poe said lightly, letting go of her.

"I'm just going to ignore him," she declared.

"That doesn't sound very easy for very long."

Rey tossed her head and smirked. "You think I should instead tell him what I think of him? Maybe we should just have it out, you know, have a lightsaber duel in my parents' living room."

"Probably not the _best_ plan," he ventured.

"Stop shooting down all of my ideas. And take my hand."

He sighed, shut up, and held her hand until they reached the Solo's quarters.

* * *

"Do you like to fly, Ben?" Poe asked conversationally, ignoring Breha's pointed look in his direction. _Don't be nice to him_ , her scowling eyes said.

Ben looked up from his plate. "Fly? You mean, ships?"

"Yeah, ships."

"Oh, no. Not really. I'm the freak of the family."

Rey snorted, then—as everyone looked at her simultaneously—said, "Excuse me."

Poe ignored her. "It's just, I thought we might go flying sometime." At Ben's dubious look, he added, "Just an idea."

"Actually," said Leia thoughtfully, "we left a lot of equipment on D'Qar. Maybe the three of you could take the Falcon back and pick some things up, once we make sure the First Order isn't lurking around."

"Yes, ma'am," Poe said. He'd be more than happy to fly the _Falcon_. Anywhere, for any reason. The quirky ship had immediately grown on him.

"The three of _us?"_ Rey clarified, pointing at Ben.

"Sure, why not?" her mother asked rhetorically. "You could also bring Finn along, if you'd like."

Breha shrugged. "Whatever," she grumbled.

Han leaned over towards Luke, sitting next to him. "I hate that word," he whispered conspiratorially to his brother-in-law. " 'Whatever.' What does that even mean?"

The Jedi grinned at his best friend. "Kids these days."

"Uh-huh." Han was trying to keep the mood light, for he knew how tightly wound his daughter was. Her shoulders were taut, her jaw was clenched: the same tells Leia had. Strange how much they resembled each other, even though Breha hadn't grown up with her mother.

"You have a First Order spy in the Resistance," Ben said suddenly, interrupting Han's train of thought.

Leia's eyebrows went up. "What?"

"General Hux knew that you'd be evacuating D'Qar three days before you moved. That's why we—they—attacked when they did."

"Hux? Brendol Hux?" Leia furrowed her brow. "I thought he'd be dead by now, or at least retired. He must be in his eighties."

"Not Brendol. His son, Armitage."

"Ah. Are you sure it's a spy? A human?"

Ben nodded. "Hux said his contact on D'Qar heard you, Mom, talking about evacuating within a few days."

Han piped up. "Did he happen to mention a name?"

Ben reflected, shaking his head slowly. "Hux said 'he,' so it's a male. And…it must be someone who joined you recently. We didn't know you were going to attack Starkiller Base, for instance, so it was after that."

Leia murmured, "We got a lot of new recruits after Hosnian Prime's destruction. Must be one of those…." She smiled at her son. "Thanks, Ben, that's very helpful."

He smiled tentatively back at her. "Of course."

Rey was still mulling over the idea of flying to D'Qar with her brother, trapped in close quarters for hours. She brought herself to turn her face towards him and spoke quietly. "Do you think Poe and I would want to be in a ship with you? You _tortured_ us."

It was the first thing she'd said directly to Ben. He looked over at her. "I…what do you want me to say, Breha?"

"An apology would be a good start."

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

Without acknowledging that, she added, "You should apologize to Poe as well."

Ben held the pilot's gaze. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, too."

Poe tried to shrug it off, although a week ago he would have reacted differently. He understood Breha's perspective, but right now he felt a little sorry for Ben. "It's in the past," he hedged. "A lot of people have been tortured—"

Rey threw him a look. "Not by their own family members," she sneered.

Leia slammed her fork and knife down, harder than she meant to. "No more talk about torture at the dinner table!" Her words brooked no argument, but Han leaned forward anyway, in case she needed backup. Breha, of course, had no idea what effect her comment would have on her mother.

"Yes, Mom," Ben said immediately. He knew that tone of voice.

Rey knew it, too. "Sure," she pouted.

Leia picked up her silverware and went back to eating, her serene mask back in place. Everyone ate silently for a minute. Luke and Han both eyed the princess, since that calm façade of hers didn't fool them. She was simmering with frustration.

"If I could change the subject," Han finally said, waving a finger between Ben and Poe, "it occurs to me that you two have met before."

"That's right," Luke exclaimed. "On Yavin, when we went to get the saplings."

Ben furrowed his brow. "I don't remember that."

"You were little, maybe six or seven," Leia recalled. "We went to Poe's home on Yavin to visit his parents and to get some roots from that Force-sensitive tree that the Damerons had in the garden. You boys spent the whole afternoon climbing it."

"Oh, I know that tree," Poe smiled. "And I remember your visit. My mother had told me a princess was coming, and I expected a lady in a formal gown and a jeweled crown. But you were dressed so casually, in pants, and you were pregnant, so you didn't fit my image of a princess at all. I burst into tears and didn't want to say hello."

Han laughed. "Hey, she's got a crown around here somewhere, if you want to see her look all royal."

Poe smiled back. "No thanks, not necessary. At the time, my mother took me aside, ordered me to stop crying, and told me, 'she's not _that_ kind of princess.' Whenever you do something, uh, not exactly aristocratic, I always remember that sentence. You're not that kind of princess."

"If you were pregnant, Mom," Ben said, "I was nine."

Leia shook her head. "You were five."

Now it was Poe's turn to look puzzled. "You and Breha are five years apart?"

"No, nine."

Poe belatedly remembered the middle child, the one who'd died when Brey was abducted, and winced. The Solos ignored the slip. "So I guess I was seven, then."

Ben gasped. "Wait, you're older than I am?"

"I'm thirty-one."

"Thirty-one?" Ben squeaked, and looked over at his father. "And you allow this?"

"Allow what?" Han said, confused.

"This!" Ben waved a hand between Poe and Rey. "This…" _Affair,_ he thought to himself, but instead he said, "this _thing._ He's much too old for her."

"Hey," Poe protested. "I thought we had a deal here." He looked at Ben meaningfully. _You know, I won't tell anyone on base what you did before you came here, and you'll help me with Breha?_

"Well, I didn't realize…no wonder my father's upset."

Han was getting confused about his own point of view. "I'm not that upset. I mean, I am, but they didn't exactly ask permission—"

"You shouldn't have given it," Ben opined.

"I don't need permission from anyone to see Poe!" Rey said on top of Ben. "I don't take orders."

"Well, I'm still thinking it over," Han told his son.

Luke spoke up too. "If we forbade it, Breha would just rebel."

"What's wrong with rebelling?" Rey fumed. "Isn't that what this whole damned family does for a living?"

"She's got a point there," Ben reflected.

"I don't care what _you_ think," his sister snarled at him.

Poe exchanged a look with Leia. He shook his head, stunned by the passionate dialogue going on around him _._ She smiled at his bewilderment; Poe's family was so easy-going by comparison. _Any_ family, actually, would have to rate as mild compared to this clan, Leia reflected.

"You're too young to know what you're doing," Ben told Rey. "You're barely twenty."

"Ben, don't…" Han started, but got drowned out by his daughter, whose cheeks had gone very pink.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Kylo Ren is lecturing me on proper mature behavior?!"

"Don't call me Kylo!"

Poe decided to dive in to the fray, just to diffuse his partner's fury. He lay a reassuring hand on Breha's thigh and leaned towards her. "Rey," he said gently. "It's okay. Calm down."

She swiveled her head to look at him, batting his hand away. The look she gave him could freeze Mustafar. _"That's_ what you call being a wingman?" she hissed at him, quietly enough that the others didn't hear her clearly.

"Would you stop calling her that?" Ben yelled at Poe.

"What?" Poe turned to him in confusion. "What'd _I_ do?"

Ben's dark eyes were stormy. "Her name is Breha. 'Rey' is a nickname that…you don't get to call her that." He looked over at his parents. "Why do you allow this?"

Leia spoke soothingly, evenly, to her son. "'Rey' is the only name she went by for fifteen years. It's what she's used to, and it's how she thinks of herself. Let it be."

"That was my brother's nickname for her," Ben informed Poe. "Nobody else gets to call her that. But obviously, my parents now consider you a surrogate son—"

"The hell we do," Han interrupted. He threw a look at Leia. _Right?_ he thought at her.

Ben stared at his father. "Poe's exactly what Ani would've been, isn't he?" His voice broke, but he continued with conviction. "The pilot, the good-looking one, not even Force-sensitive-"

Han shook his head, brow furrowed. "Kid, this has nothing to do with Ani."

"Then why is he even here? At our family dinner?" Ben yelled at his father, losing his temper. _Ben had never really dealt with the loss of his little brother,_ Han reflected briefly. _Our fault. We'll have to deal with that one, somehow._

Breha was still irritated with Poe, but that didn't stop her from defending him from Ben. Before her father could answer Ben's question, she bit out, "Poe's more a part of this family than you are! At least he understands loyalty."

Ben turned on her. "You don't even know what talking about, Breha! You still think of our parents with a five year-old's blind affection. You have no idea how I grew up."

Threepio entered the room, holding a fruit tart. "Oh, my!" he fretted. "Children, this is no way to behave at the dinner table."

"Shut up, Threepio!" shouted Breha, Ben and Han simultaneously.

"Mistress Leia," he continued more quietly, "might this be a good time for dessert?"

Leia nodded silently at her droid and motioned for him to put the pie down. She stood up, all 157 centimeters of her, to command the floor. "All right!" she announced in her senatorial voice. "Enough!" She waited until everyone had stopped speaking, breathing, and smirking, before continuing. "I have three points. One, I was nineteen when I met your father, who was then thirty-two. It worked out just fine." Han and Breha both inhaled, as if about to speak, and Leia cut them off. "Two: children are irreplaceable, Ben, but we _will not_ mention the dead again at the dinner table. And three: we are going to have dessert now. Ben and Breha, please clear the table, and Threepio, please bring some small plates and forks in." She sat down again.

"Why doesn't Poe have to help?" Ben grumbled, collecting plates.

"Because he's a guest," Leia reminded her son.

"Because his legs are burned off," Rey said hotly, at the same time as her mother.

Poe raised his eyebrows at her as she took his plate and stacked it on top of hers. "I thought it was just a little sunburn?" he teased her. Rey glared at him, not amused. His face softened in apology and he reached out to caress her leg again. The action was hidden from the others, since she was still seated next to him and his hand was below the table.

Breha stood up quickly, pushing his hand away in the process, and retreated to the kitchen with plates.

Once everyone was seated again, quiet, and placated by a slice of tart, Leia spoke again. "Look, we've all gone through a lot of changes recently. A month ago, none of you were even here with me, except Poe and Threepio. Now you're all back, and that's wonderful. It'll just take us a little bit of time to get accustomed to each other again—which we _will_ do, because we're a family. So be patient, try to understand each other, be nice, and eat."

The table was silent.

"Who wants sugared cream?" Threepio said cheerfully, glad that the princess had managed to tame her unruly brood.


	9. Gambling

Han played idly with his wife's hair. He twisted a few strands between his fingers, making a loose braid. Plaiting hair was a skill he'd only mastered after marrying the last princess of Alderaan, whose hair always displayed at least one braid. Leia's hair was still thick; maybe less glossy than it used to be, with almost as much gray as brown, but still thick. Its weight was comforting.

Sprawled on top of him in bed, belly to belly, Leia kissed his cheek softly before settling onto his chest. "Do you think he's going to stay, then?" She was continuing the conversation they'd been having for the past hour (fitfully, with distractions in between).

"I dunno. He's always been restless."

"As a boy, he was. He's a man now."

"Yeah. But an immature man."

Leia murmured assent to that. "Immature, or impulsive?"

"Both, I guess." Han shrugged. "Who knows. Doesn't really matter. I say we just enjoy whatever time we get with him. If anyone can convince him to stay put, it'd be you."

Leia turned her face up, to look at him. "You're his father," she reminded him for the third time since he'd returned. "You're the one he needs approval from. He needs to know you love him unconditionally. He already knows I do."

Han shifted onto his side, pulling Leia along so that he could look at her directly. "That's…y'know, saying that kind of thing's not my strong suit," he admitted in his rumbling baritone. "Can't he just _sense_ it?"

She pursed her lips. "He can." She tilted her head and chided gently, "But children do need to hear the words come out of their parents' mouths now and then. Just tell him you love him and you're proud of him."

Han looked past her at the still-bare bedroom walls. "I'm not sure 'proud' is the best word."

"Save that word for Breha, then. But Ben needs you to talk to him. A long talk."

"Yeah, okay." He paused to run his fingertips up and down her arms, finally settling them near her neck in order to knead some of the tension out of her shoulders.

Leia let her eyes drift closed, trying to empty her mind of worry and instead focus her entire being on Han's strong fingers. But she couldn't relax yet. "Luke doesn't trust him at all," she whispered.

Han stopped his massage. "Really?"

"I asked him after dinner what he was sensing from Ben, and he just said _ambivalence_."

"Huh." Han mulled that over. "Well, better that than 'burning hatred,' I guess."

She shook her head. "Well, for now. He might still go back to the First Order. Ben is deeply, deeply conflicted in his loyalties. We're going to have to deprogram him somehow, make him see how Snoke manipulated him…but not now," she concluded firmly. "Now, we're going to sleep. Right after you give my left shoulder the same attention you're giving the right one."

Han smiled, more than willing to end the conversation about Ben. He kissed her left shoulder. "It's jealous?"

"Very. It's the jealous type."

* * *

"So, are you up for sabacc tonight?" Finn asked his best friend. They'd just returned from their daily patrol of Coruscant's airspace. Finn had happily accepted his new post as a B-wing pilot, while Poe was grudgingly acclimating himself to a replacement X-wing. His beloved Black One hadn't been salvaged from D'Qar yet. As soon as General Organa greenlighted a trip to the former base, though, Poe was going to bring his crippled ship home. Repairing her would be a fun long-term project he could work on with Breha, maybe even Han and Chewbacca.

"Sure," Poe answered. "Sabacc in my quarters, maybe 20:00?"

Finn grinned. "Hope you're in the mood to lose, 'cause I'm feeling lucky."

"Any particular reason?"

"I flew that B-wing without even coming close to crashing today."

Poe threw him a sardonic look. "Your pride in that 'accomplishment' worries me."

Finn just laughed at that. He paused a moment before continuing gently. "We should invite Ben Solo."

Poe stopped walking and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Doesn't sound like his kind of game."

"Why not? He's half Corellian. He's probably a great sabacc player." Finn looked straight into his friend's eyes. "He's Rey's brother. You really should get to know him. It's been almost a week now; I don't understand why you keep avoiding him."

"Yeah, I…well, he's a little protective of his little sister. I'm not sure he likes me much." That wasn't really the reason. Poe actually rather liked him, as long as he managed to think of him as Ben Solo rather than Kylo Ren. But Rey was still prickly around her brother, and Poe didn't want to give the appearance of choosing Ben's company over hers. As long as she saw her relationship with her brother as adversarial, Poe had to stay firmly on her side. He was completely loyal to his love, and he well understood her distrust of Ben, but he hoped that her attitude would thaw soon. It would make things easier.

"I'll ask Rey about it," Poe told Finn. "Don't invite him 'til I've had a chance to talk to her."

* * *

Breha, surprisingly, wasn't opposed to Poe's suggestion. Maybe, she mused, he wouldn't be so bad in a group of people, and she could avoid any direct conversation. Master Luke still didn't trust him, so she wasn't going to either, regardless of how much affection her parents showered on their prodigal son. Still, Rey thought it would be wise strategy to play games like sabacc or holo-chess with Ben. She wanted to know how his mind worked, in case he turned back to the Dark— _when_ he turned back, she reminded herself. Besides, she was getting tired of avoiding the topic with Finn. He and Ben had become friendly, commiserating about the hard life with the First Order. And Finn, who longed for any scrap of information about his long-lost family, couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to get to know her brother. And so she sent Poe to Ben's quarters. She hadn't set foot there yet, and didn't wish to.

Doubt was still ripping Ben apart. When he'd been with his master, he was given direct orders, and everything seemed so straightforward. When he was in his parents' presence, enveloped in love and support, that path seemed clear as well. But when he was alone, he felt lost. Meditation: that's what he needed. His uncle had taught him that soothing skill as a child, when Ben was plagued by nightmares.

For the last several years—ever since his mother's true bloodline had been outed on the Senate floor—Ben had usually aimed his meditations at his grandfather. Darth Vader never answered him, but he still tried. Focusing on one person helped, and nobody understood his doubts, his irresolution, like Anakin Skywalker. He sat cross-legged on the floor of his quarters and sharpened his attention on a potted fern, a gift from his mother. With the plant in front of him, he breathed deeply. "Grandfather?" he whispered hopefully. As soon as he entered his familiar meditative state, Snoke's voice crept into his brain like a snake.

 _Kylo Ren? Do you hear me?_

 _Supreme Leader,_ he acknowledged without hesitation. _You were right; the plan worked. I'm in position._

There was a knock on the door. Kylo broke the telepathic link. Ten minutes later, he incongruously found himself playing a game of sabacc in Poe's quarters. He looked around the room at the Resistance fighters: friendly, open-hearted, relaxed. People who had accepted ex-stormtrooper FN-2187 and brand-new recruits as part of their team. They teased and laughed with each other, and Ben wanted so badly to share in that sort of camaraderie which he had seldom—if ever—felt in his life. Not at school on Hosnian Prime, not at Luke's Jedi Academy. He'd taken a few of those Jedi apprentices with him when he defected, hoping the Knights of Ren might give him the sense of belonging he needed. They had not.

Ben's gaze fell to his cards. This game reminded him of just one person: Han Solo. He remembered sitting on his father's lap as a small boy, warm arms embracing his thin body as Han whispered the tricks of sabacc to him amidst the smells of Wookiee fur, Corellian brandy, and his father's unique mix of cologne and hydraulic fuel. That was back when soldiers still called each other Rogues, when Han was still called General, Ben referred to his father as Daddy, and Daddy affectionately called him Kid or Little Guy. Everyone had a different name then, Ben mused. Everything was easier then. Except sabacc, which was far easier nowadays, thanks to Ben's ability to sense the other players. Finn was nervous but excited: bluffing. Jessika was smug and confident: she had a good hand. The shifty new recruit, Davis, had already dropped, as had Breha. Poe and Snap….

"Stop cheating," said Breha sharply.

Ben looked at his sister, found her staring at him. "I'm not."

"You are," she countered. "You're reading them."

"I am _not."_

"Children, don't argue or I'll send you to your rooms," Poe said breezily. Ignoring the glare that Rey threw at him, he continued. "You know, Ben, my dad used to tell me stories about the Rebellion days, how Master Skywalker was really good at gambling games 'cause he always knew who was bluffing. But my dad finally figured out how to get around that."

"Hey, wait, you're reading our minds?" Finn asked Ben.

Before he could answer, Poe piped up again, explaining what Breha had taught him about Force users. "No, he's sensing our emotions." He glanced at Ben. "Right?"

Ben shrugged, trying a small smile. "A little. So how did your father 'get around' my uncle's abilities?"

Poe grinned and clinked glasses with Snap. "He got drunk before playing. It threw Luke off."

"Aha." Ben considered. "That works." He threw another two chips into the pot. "Somewhat."

Snap and Finn folded, Jessika called the bet, and Poe raised by one. "Nah, you got nothing," he smirked playfully. "I can _feel_ it."

Ben raised an eyebrow, an Alderaanian gesture which was normally used—at least in his family—as a sign of impending triumph. Ben added one chip to call, and laid down his hand. "Negative 23."

Poe pursed his lips and gave their dealer his cards back, face down in defeat. "Okay, guess I ain't a Jedi. Jess? What've you got?"

Jessika Pava sighed. "I've got no more chips, apparently." She pushed the pot towards Ben. "All yours." She smiled shyly at him. "Guess I should get drunk before the next hand."

Ben held Jessika's gaze until her eyes skipped away. "That might be interesting," he murmured.

Poe caught their exchange and threw a quick look at Rey. _Did you see that?_ he thought at her. She nodded once at him and rolled her eyes.

"Do you think we'll stay on Coruscant for long?" Davis—the new guy—asked conversationally as he dealt the next hand of cards. Ben's eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Probably not," offered Snap Wexley. "It's a good place for the Republic capital, but the brass wants us spread out, so if the First Order attacks, our ships won't all be in one place again, like...before."

There was a moment of silence as they remembered their comrades lost on Hosnian Prime. Then Poe spoke up. "I heard they're considering a couple of old Rebel Alliance bases, like Crait or Hoth."

"Where's Crait?" Breha asked.

"Ante up, everyone," Davis interrupted, finishing the deal. "But I'm going to sit this hand out; I need a little trip to the boys' room."

"There's a 'fresher around the corner," gestured Poe.

"Nah, I think I'll go back to my quarters. Something at dinner didn't, uh, agree with me."

Finn laughed. "Don't tell Hestia. She'd take it personally."

Davis paused in the doorframe. "Who's Hestia?"

"Our chef," explained Jess.

"Well, I don't like her cooking."

Ben Solo stood up suddenly, taking two long steps towards the door. Breha inhaled sharply as her lightsaber flew from her belt into her brother's hand, and with one bright blue stroke, he decapitated the unsuspecting Davis. The room was silent for a moment, save for the hum of the saber in Ben's hand. Everyone sat motionless, mouths agape, sabacc cards before them. One of Snap's hands was stuck in midair, holding a coin he was about to ante. They all stared mutely at Ben.

Finally, Poe spoke. "You're…pretty protective…of our chef's reputation," he managed.

Ben deactivated the lightsaber. "He was the spy." He looked beseechingly at his sister. "I wasn't trying to cheat; I was trying to get a read on him. He was the spy. And he was about to go report to Snoke about our next base." It was suddenly important to Ben that she know his motive. It was a matter of honor: he wasn't a cheat. He was protecting the Resistance and their parents.

"Ever heard of due process?" Snap asked, finally lowering his hand.

"We're at war," Ben said calmly. "Traitors get executed."

Poe shook his head. "I don't think that's what your mother would say."

"She'd have done it herself."

"No, she wouldn't have." Poe was always quick to defend his General.

Ben tilted his chin up defiantly. "Yes, she would. You don't know my mother like I do, Poe. She can be ruthless when she needs to be."

"Yeah, well…." he trailed off. "Would you guys like to help me get the corpse out of my quarters? Needless to say, I think this is a good time to end our card game."


	10. Breathing

_The Force is with me,_ Ben mumbled, _and I am one with the Force._ He breathed in and out slowly, consciously, keeping track of his breath. He inhaled— _The Force is with me,_ _and I am one with the Force—_ and exhaled the mantra with the same rhythm. He'd killed a First Order spy earlier that night, and was now meditating before bed. What concerned Ben Solo was not the taking of human life. He considered it justifiable defense, not murder: spies get executed when discovered, that's just the way of things. Davis, an ineffective spy, had infiltrated the Resistance headquarters and, in that moment, Ben regarded the killing as the defense of his parents and sister. It was _that_ fact that was concerning him right now. Why was he feeling protective of them? Did he love them…still? Was it love? Compassion, protectiveness, tenderness?

He continued to breathe deeply. _The Force is with me,_ _and I am one with the Force._ Had Snoke chosen Davis so that Ben might kill him and ingratiate himself better with the Resistance? If that was the plan, it had worked. Partially, anyway. Now the rebels thought he was dedicated to their cause but slightly insane. No matter; nobody was about to suggest to General Organa that her son might be out of his mind.

Ben was kneeling on the floor of his quarters, but his left knee was bothering him. He shifted slightly. He should have been able to hold the pose for hours; perhaps he was getting soft. Or old. He exhaled in frustration. Screaming and wrecking things with a lightsaber would have been more satisfying than meditation. But Master Skywalker—Ben couldn't think of him as Uncle Luke anymore, not since the Jedi Temple went up in flames and his childish trust along with it—the master wanted him to calm his thoughts and center his mind.

He was racked with uncertainty. Racked, Ben thought, like Snoke had done to him when he'd first joined the Order: he had never experienced such pain as Snoke had inflicted on his young body. Stretched out on a rack, or suspended midair, with unsubstantial fire shooting through his chest. The sensation of burning flesh was supposed to make Kylo Ren better able to sympathize with his grandfather Darth Vader. Pain, Snoke said, was the best teacher.

The Supreme Leader had sent him to D'Qar, to the Resistance, to have a man on the inside. As a spy, Ben mused. _How am I different than the man I killed tonight?_ He stopped his mantra for a moment, came out of his kneel and sat cross-legged instead as he pondered. Well, he could obey Snoke, yet still maintain his honor. He decided suddenly that he wouldn't betray his family. Somehow, he would have to get them away from this base when the First Order attacked. Then he could have everything he desired: an end to the Resistance movement, a united government ruling the galaxy in peace, with Snoke as the Supreme Leader…or, if Ben were to be truly honest with himself, with _him_ as the Supreme Leader and his family at his side. Breha in particular would be a great asset as a Second. His apprentice, perhaps.

 _Spies deserve to be executed._ The thought nagged at him. He had told Poe that his mother would have done away with Davis just as he had, although Ben wasn't sure he really believed that. What would his mother do to him if she knew his mission? Did she love _him_ more than she cared about her precious Rebels? He could try to make her understand his goals…if only he understood them better himself. He badly needed clarity.

He was racked with uncertainty.

* * *

"Well, that was something different," Poe Dameron said to the ceiling. His breath was ragged. He tried to get it under control.

"Different good or different bad?" Breha rolled off of him and stood up in one graceful movement. She sauntered over to the sink. "Would you like some water?"

Poe answered the easier question first. "Sure, thanks." He propped himself up on an elbow to ogle her. "Different good, I think." Gods, she looked beautiful to him—her rosy skin, now damp with sweat; delicate vertebrae like a string of pearls down her back; lean muscles rippling in her legs and back; the bemused expression on her face as she turned to look at him.

"Come back here," he whispered gently.

She smiled at that, crinkling her nose in the way he loved, and returned to bed with a glass of water for him. She lay down on her side, parallel to him. "How was it different?"

He stared into her green-flecked eyes until she blushed. "I don't know," he murmured. "You've never been so…passionate."

She shrugged lightly, averting her gaze. "Maybe I'm just getting braver with you."

"Yeah, maybe that's it." Poe thought for a moment. "No, that's not it. You're more aggressive. Angry."

"I'm not at all angry with you," she said mildly. "I thought you wanted—thought you might like me to be more assertive." Rey swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. This wasn't a conversation she really wanted to be having. If she seemed angry, it was directed at her wayward brother. Poe wanted her to get along with Ben, so she had tried to keep her cool around him, even though it pained her. If that frustration was translating into aggression in bed, well, surely that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Oh, yeah, assertive is good," Poe reassured her while brushing some errant strands of hair away from her face. "Assertive is great. I love that side of you. It's just that," he paused, in order to frame his next thought tactfully, "it seems, seemed, just tonight, that you were thinking of something besides me."

Rey took the half-empty glass out of his hand, set it on the floor behind her, then placed her hands on his shoulders. She pressed him gently backwards so that he was lying flat on the bed, and nestled her face on his chest. She found his heartbeat comforting. It was slowing down now, like his breathing. Poe's skin was pleasantly warm, glowing softly, just like his presence in the Force. His arms, wrapped snugly around her, made her feel safer than she'd ever been on Jakku. She ran a hand idly from his flat stomach up to his face, until her fingers finally settled in his ever-tangled hair. She concentrated on her breathing and his steady heart.

After a minute of companionable silence, she spoke again. "I'm _always_ thinking of you."

"I know you're angry at him," he said into her hair. "It's okay if you wanna…take that out on me."

Rey tilted her face up to kiss his jaw. "Master Luke encourages me to channel my negative thoughts into a more positive sort of energy."

"Well, you are positively energetic." He looked at her upturned face and winked at her. She giggled. "You relaxed now?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled broadly. At no moment in her life had she ever felt as content and complete as when she was with her Poe. Maybe connecting with the Force on Ahch-To ranked second. A distant second.

"Your energy is feeling positive?"

She laughed again. "Quite."

"Want a backrub?"

"No, I'm good."

"Yes, you _are_ good." One arm was still wrapped protectively around her, hand resting against her neck, but Poe's other hand had started to wander around the curves of her body. "Wanna go to sleep?" he asked. He didn't sound too tired.

She thought for a moment, then shifted forward to cover his body completely with hers. "Not yet."

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Breha's eyes opened. After a short pause, another knock, more insistently. And another.

"What is, are, under attack?" Poe mumbled. He was spooned behind her, his breath warm in her ear.

"Someone's at your door," she replied. She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked dead to the world. "Are you awake?"

"No."

"Right." Reluctantly, Rey disentangled herself from him, picked his beige shirt off the floor, and slipped it on. Short, but it covered the important bits. She cracked the door open as a fourth knock came.

Luke Skywalker raised his eyebrows at her. "It's about time," he chided.

"Um, good morning, Uncle Luke. How are you?"

"Not as well as you." Cheeky as usual. "Why don't you get dressed and join Ben and me for some morning exercises?"

"I'm not dressed," she stammered. She heard a snort from behind the door. Ben, presumably. "Hullo, brother."

"Had enough exercise for one morning, Breha, or are you up for some more sport?"

She fought the urge to smack him, and settled for an exasperated sigh. "Give me five minutes."

"Join us outside of the flight hanger," Luke smiled. "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

At the Jedi academy, Luke had had his students run through the same physical drill three times daily. About fifteen minutes long, it was a repeating series of flowing gestures, a moving meditation that simultaneously stretched the body and relaxed the mind. In the first half of the practice, the Jedi kept their arms up and still, while in the second half they held a staff like a lightsaber, slicing the air wordlessly. Luke had taught the drill to Breha on Ahch-To, and although Ben hadn't done it in years, his muscle memory kicked in easily. And so with Luke leading, the three of them spent fifteen minutes silently practicing their moving meditation, flowing effortlessly from one position to the next, in harmony with each other and themselves. The sounds and smells of the flight hanger, the tangle of emotions emanating from the Resistance members nearby, and the curious glances from pilots and ground crew all faded into the background.

It was, Ben thought to himself, a quarter hour of unhurried, uncluttered serenity. He couldn't remember why or when he'd ever stopped doing the daily ritual, but he was now content to stand behind his uncle and follow Luke's movements. He breathed deeply, in time with his sister and uncle, thinking of nothing.

And he found himself at peace.


End file.
